The Broom Closet
by remuslives
Summary: Fred stumbles upon a girl in a broom closet. Birthday fic for WeasleyForMe.


**A/N: Happy Birthday WeasleyForMe! Everyone else seemed to be going to George/Hermione route, so I took a side road, hope you don't mind. **

Fred slid around the corner from Filch's office and waited; he could see George smirking at him from behind the opposite wall. They eat held up a hand simultaneously and silently counted down from three. As their last fingers went down a yelp sounded from the office followed by yelling and running footsteps. Laughing quietly, Fred gave a slight wave to George as the both darted down the corridors away from an irate Filch. Fred took his hallway at a jog until he heard the steps pounding towards him.

"Here we go," he grinned to himself. He picked up the pace to stay just far enough ahead that the caretaker could hear him but not see him.

"I know," Filch huffed behind him, "that it's...you Weasley." The old man began coughing, almost making Fred feel sorry for him. "Just you wait...one of these days...toenails...upside...hanging..."

Fred smirked as he saw his exit ahead of him. The Revolving Broom Closet. He and George had discovered it back in their third year; once the door opened and closed, it would relocate to a different floor within the castle. It was rare to stumble across it when they actually needed it, but it did happen on occasion, if one knew what to look for. With a loud laugh just to taunt Filch, he opened the door and shut it quickly and quietly behind him.

"Well well, what do we have here?" a feminine voice that he couldn't place, asked from behind him. Two petite hands slid up his back to his shoulders. He started to turn his head to see the girl behind him, but one of the hands slid up and blocked his face. "Ah-ah-ah, what fun would that be?"

"You can see me," Fred stated, swallowing hard as the hands slid around and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yes, I can. But, if you don't like my game," she suggested releasing his buttons.

"No! No, I didn't say that," he rushed, eager to have her hands back on him. He bit his lip when they resumed their progress. "You going to tell me who you are?"

"Maybe," she nipped at the back of his neck, "when I'm through with you."

"Might get a little difficult if I can't turn around."

"That's solved easily enough," she purred. Her hands disappeared again and he heard a small click before she whispered and the lights went out. "Better?" She reached around and slid his shirt off his shoulders, scraping her fingernails lightly down his chest.

His breath caught when her hands moved down and started working on his belt buckle. Taking his chances, he spun around quickly before she could stop him again. "That's better," he whispered. He reached out in the darkness and found a mass of curly hair, which he dug his hands into; his mind flipping through girls he knew with similar hairstyles. He leaned down a little to find her lips and kissing them urgently. Eagerly, he began working on her button down blouse, wondering at the stiff fabric. Whoever she was, she had a great body, soft and round.

It only took moments for both of them to have removed each others clothes, lips still locked together. Fred moaned as his hand squeezed her ample breast. Pressing forward, he positioned her against the wall and slid a hand down between them.

"Now," she commanded, pushing down on his shoulders. He grabbed her by the bum and lifted so that she could wrap her thick legs around his waist as he pressed her into the wall. He took another moment to kiss and touch her body before she became impatient. "Now," she said even more firmly, digging her long nails into his shoulders.

He obeyed each of her commands, be they harder or faster. When he finally felt her body start to tremble, he stopped fighting his own release with a loud grunt.

Breathless and shaky, he let the girl slide down to her feet, just before he slumped against the opposite wall. He heard the sounds of the girl getting dressed, material rustling, heels clacking, and buttons snapping.

"Well, not a total waist of time, after all," she announced. "Pity you weren't who I was looking for, but you were satisfactory."

"What?" He was confused and somewhat insulted by her new attitude.

"Well, you're not Harry Potter but you got the job done."

"Harry?"

"Yes, I was going to hide in the closet until he came near enough to pull in for a...interview." Fred heard another soft click, like that from his mother's handbag, before she whispered and the lights came back, nearly blinding him. She chuckled haughtily. "Hmm...another Weasley." She smiled her perfect ruby lips at him, patted him on the cheek, and left, leaving the door standing open.

"Fred?" George was suddenly beside him, looking at him oddly. "What's happened to you?"

"I just shagged...Rita Skeeter."

**A/N: I'd like to blame my husband for putting this idea into my head in the first place. R&R please.**


End file.
